


100 ways to say I Love You

by Banashee



Series: IronHawk - various unrelated stories [9]
Category: Hawkeye (Comics), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: 100 Ways to Say I Love You Writing Challenge, Anxiety, Couch Cuddles, Cuddling & Snuggling, Deaf Clint Barton, Domestic Avengers, Dorks in Love, Dreams and Nightmares, Established Relationship, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Insomnia, Late at Night, M/M, Nightmares, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, Romance, Safehouses, Sharing Clothes, Sharing a Bed, Sleepy Cuddles, Team as Family, Touch-Starved, Touching
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 12:49:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29759895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Banashee/pseuds/Banashee
Summary: 100 ways to say "I Love you" with Clint and Tony either falling in love or being in an already established relationship.Each chapter stands on it's own so you can read them however you want and don't need to know all the others.-Snippet from chapter 3:"There is only one bed." Tony informs Clint, who is testing the couch with a very impressive frown that might just be his resting face. His scowl darkens when he lies down and his feet are hanging off of the end and the armrest is uncomfortably high against his head. There are also hard wood parts and clumps in the cushions digging into his back and butt."Well, this couch sucks ass… Do not recommend.""We can share the bed, I don't mind."
Relationships: Clint Barton/Tony Stark
Series: IronHawk - various unrelated stories [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2153523
Comments: 15
Kudos: 29





	1. 16 - “It’s okay, I couldn’t sleep anyway”

**Author's Note:**

> Because I love writing challenges and may or may not want to do way too many of them... Enjoy ♥  
> Warnings, tags and ratings will be changed and/or added as needed
> 
> \- 
> 
> This is the list of the 100 ways to say "I Love you". 
> 
> https://blondetins.tumblr.com/post/125868124867/100-ways-to-say-i-love-you
> 
> It's not mine, obviously, but it's a super sweet project so of course I have to tackle this with my two favourite dorks.
> 
> \---
> 
> Chapter 1 summary:
> 
> Clint hates being cold, especially when he's having a sleepless night in a safehouse. Lucky for him, Tony is also awake and willing to provide some company and warmth.
> 
> Chapter 1 warnings:  
> Warnings:
> 
> Anxiety  
> Touch Starvation  
> General sadness  
> Implied ptsd relating cold environments

**100 ways to say "I Love You" - IronHawk Version**

**16 - "It's okay, I couldn't sleep anyway."**

Careful not to make any noise, Clint sneaks past the other doors in the hallway. It’s late at night, or early in the morning, depending on how you look at it, and he spent the better part of the night tossing and turning in bed, wide awake and unable to rest even a little bit.

The safehouse is cramped and freezing, despite the heat running all the time, but the cold wind just keeps creeping inside through every single crack it can find. Clint is not a fan of cold weather - not at all. He’s got his reasons, but this isn’t the only issue that keeps him from sleeping. 

The mission might have been successful, but they have to lay low for now. No coming home yet, and so, instead of flying straight back to the tower in Manhattan, Clint and the other Avengers are stuck in a SHIELD safehouse in the middle of nowhere. It is tiny, and far from ideal, but at least there is a bed for everyone. Thank fuck. None of the couches is long enough to actually stretch out on. Only Natasha manages to do so - one of the advantages of being a tiny ball of competence. In this case, the “tiny” part actually serves her well. If anyone else tries to stretch out on these things, their feet are hanging off of the other side, even Tony’s.

On the other hand, seeing both Thor and Steve try out the living room furniture had been hysterical, and only partially to their widely sceptical faces when they’d carefully settled down. 

At least, the beds are bigger, even though the mattresses are lumpy and the sheets scratchy.

Clint is used to these circumstances, but that doesn’t make them any less uncomfortable. His main-problem, however, is his constantly running, anxious brain that just won’t shut up, no matter what he does. So, instead of staying in bed, which gets increasingly frustrating, Clint makes his way into the kitchen, hoping he doesn’t wake anyone up.

Or maybe, he hopes that someone else is already awake. He doesn’t want to be alone right now, he doesn’t know how to ask for company.

Company happens sometimes. Asking for help doesn’t. 

Clint’s hand finds the light switch in pitch black darkness, and when the dim light bulb is flickering to life, it still almost blinds him and he curses under his breath.

“Fuck! Piece of shit light…” grumbling, he shuffles around the room, tiles ice cold under his bare feet. Clint faintly remembers, which cabinet the mugs are in and which holds the coffee, so he starts a whole pot. There is really no point in trying to sleep right now, so he might as well get some caffeine in while he waits for the night to be over. The first night of… Who even knows.

Clint sighs, and although he can’t make out the sounds of the howling wind outside, he can feel the chilly air on his skin, creeping under his clothes. The cold makes him shiver, and he faintly wishes he took a blanket with him. 

Maybe he is lucky and there is one by the couch - he really doesn’t want to go back through the hallway, past the rooms of his no doubt either keyed up, paranoid or physically enchanted teammates - at least Steve would probably wake up. The poor guy knows exactly whenever someone sneezes several rooms over, even when the walls are technically sound proof.

Lost in thoughts, Clint watches the coffee drip down into the glass pot. It is a steady stream, but it is still too slow for his taste. The room starts to fill with the scent of coffee, and Clint breathes it in, hopeful and longing for something warm that might help.

God, who is he kidding, he really hates being cold. Damn safehouse, damn mission and generally, fuck everything.

Too many thoughts, too many bad memories - being left behind, being alone -

_ ‘Don’t.’ _ Clint scolds himself in his thoughts, _ ‘You are not alone, there are 5 other people here. Get it together.’ _

Unfortunately, his insomniac brain isn’t having any of his logic. By the time the coffee is through, Clint has worked himself up into yet another spiral of thoughts, and he almost jumps out of his skin when he can feel the sudden presence of another person behind him. 

Thankfully, they don’t touch him, but Clint is long used to being able to feel a presence. Especially when he doesn’t have his ears in, he can feel the vibrations of footsteps on the floor, sense the breathing. 

Right now, he is ridiculously proud that he doesn’t scream or throw punches, but he does flinch a bit, turning around on his heel only to be met with the apologetic face of a very rumpled looking Tony. He holds up both hands in front of him, the universal gesture for,

“Just me, I won’t hurt you.”

“Uh, hi. Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you…” Clint says, scratching the back of his head. 

“It’s okay, I couldn’t sleep, anyway. The beds are shit in here.” Tony replies, slowly as he keeps facing Clint so he can read his lips to understand better. This is true, but only half the reason he is out here in the first place - he, too, doesn’t want to be alone right now.

“They are. Coffee?” Clint asks then, with a slight smile as he pulls out another mug from the cupboard. He gets a grateful smile and a nod in response. So he pours pitch black coffee for both of them, and in silent agreement, they make their way to the battered couch. Due to its size, they’re pressed close together, but they don’t mind that. In fact, they certainly ended up just as close to one another back home on a couch that is big enough for the whole team to sprawl out on. 

Meeting in the middle of the night, drinking coffee together - it’s a thing by now. Their thing. 

Minds that keep racing, anxious restlessness and the need to feel some human warmth keep them awake, and they venture out into the common areas in search of relief. There, they find each other, again and again and again.

They could talk about these things, but they don’t. Talking is hard, while company is easy. 

The pot of coffee is empty by the time the sun is starting to rise, and the wind is picking up outside. Silence is stretching out in the dark room while the cold air is fighting it’s way in, and Clint is shivering once again. 

Without thinking, Tony puts an arm around him and pulls him closer. Clint willingly goes, wrapping his own arms around the other man’s waist. Tony is warm, comfortable to lean against and rest for a bit. 

His other hand, restless as always, finds its way into messy blond hair and starts to play and stroke through it while Clint grows almost boneless under the touch. 

The familiar scent of coffee and expensive aftershave is filling his nose, and he thinks, not for the first time, that he really would like for this to be a constant thing. But again, that would involve taking, which neither of them is especially great at, at least not when it's about their own feelings. 

This though, spending the sleepless nights together drinking coffee and sharing some warmth - it works. It has for a while now, so maybe they can figure out the rest as well. 

The following night, they meet in a similar way, again in the kitchen, again with the coffee. 

“It’s okay, I couldn’t sleep anyway.” - it’s like their mantra by now, and they could just as well say something else. They don’t - not yet. 

Clint and Tony curl up on the cramped couch, sharing a blanket with hands that travel gently, heads that rest on shoulders or against each other. 

This time, however, while the house is dark and quiet, with the wind howling outside, their hands find one another and squeeze, gentle and reassuring. Not long after this, they scoot closer together. They’re close enough to share little bits of breath in the chilly air, until chapped but warm lips meet one another. While they kiss, a warm, giddy feeling spreads throughout Clint’s chest, and he holds on as tightly as he can, searching for as much physical contact as he possibly can. And Tony lets him. He seems to be just as desperate for touch, for warmth and - well. It certainly looks like they’re on the same page here. 

When they pull apart for a bit, to catch their breath, Tony looks at Clint with a quiet happiness in his beautiful brown eyes that not a lot of people get to see. It’s private, and it’s  _ for him _ , Clint realizes, and his heart is beating fast enough to be almost painful. 

He is at a loss for words, but just as happy - thankfully, as ironic as it might be for the two of them, they don’t always need words to communicate. 

It might be this realisation that made Clint fall in love in the first place.

When they wake up in the morning, they do so on the tiny couch - surprised that they fell asleep in the first place, and with backs that protest for sleeping out here on this ratty thing. 

The two men are curled up into one another, and it is a miracle that neither of them fell off of the couch at night.

And yet, they don’t find it in themselves to be grumpy, especially not when they start their day together, wrapped around each other, hands traveling over each other’s sleep-warm skin. 

Fingers creep under the hem of shirts, stroking gently and resting against the small of Clints back, feeling the scars there. Fingers are resting against the light fuzz next to Tony’s ARC reactor, tracing the raised lines around it, The ARC reactor is tinting them into its faint blue light, and Clint finds that, luckily, he doesn’t mind this particular shade of blue. It is a soft, warm comfort, unlike the other blue light that, once upon a time, took his free will away. 

Right now, he doesn’t think of this - he is too happy and too warm for this. 

Tony tilts his head up to press a light kiss against his scruffy jaw, and Clint pulls him closer in response, nose buried in messy dark hair. His fingers keep tracing the scars on Tony’s chest, and the hand on his back is rubbing small, gentle circles. 

The couch is really not that comfortable, but neither of them wants to get up yet. 

  
  



	2. 32 - "It looks good on you"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tony really likes wearing Clint's anchient clothes - they're really comfortable and sometimes smell a bit like him, okay?

**32 - “It looks good on you”**

Tony wakes up alone. His hand stretches out to the empty spot next to him, and it is still warm. Then, his sleepy brain catches up to a faint memory of Clint getting up way too early in the morning to go down to the gym, leaving Tony and his mumbled complaints behind with a brush of lips and a whispered

"Go back to sleep, it's early, Babe."

Early it had been - which is why it takes Tony longer to catch up now. To be fair he didn't even have coffee yet, which he maybe should get to soon. Besides, maybe he is lucky and there is a pot already brewed downstairs. 

With a sigh, he peels himself out of the sheets and slouches into the bathroom for a shower. The hot water feels truly wonderful, and he takes longer than planned, but at least he feels a bit more human now. 

Back in the bedroom, Tony pulls out comfy clothes, all of which are slightly too big for him. No surprise there, since he likes to steal Clint's stuff whenever he can. His shirts are really comfortable, and sometimes they smell a bit like him, okay? 

Alright so Tony is head over heels in love and that brings out slightly cheesy tendencies in him. Sue him, he's happy. Happier than he had been in a really long time - he could get used to this. 

When Tony enters the kitchen, he does so wearing nothing but ancient boxer shorts and washed out, grey t-shirt that proudly proclaims “I went to Budapest and all I got was this shirt” in faded print that started to peel off ages ago. The socks on his feet are mismatched; one of them is violently purple with tiny pizza slices all over, the other is white with black arrows. Both pairs of socks were joke gifts to Clint, but he kept the damn things for years and still wears them occasionally. 

None of these things, neither the socks nor the shirt or boxers are anything fancy, but they're soft, well loved and lived in. The best combination for comfort, really. 

Luckily, there is a pot of coffee already on the kitchen table, and various teammates are scattered around. 

Bruce is half asleep with his eyes open. He is holding a huge mug in both hands, staring holes into the air as if he barely acknowledges what is going on around him. Chances are, he spent a few days down in the lab and he'll go to bed right after breakfast. 

Tony ruffles his salt and pepper curls on his way past and doesn't get more than a low hum or grunt that probably means something like "Good morning". 

Both Steve and Thor seem to be a lot more awake, and they greet their teammate as he enters the room quite enthusiastically while stuffing their faces with breakfast pastry. 

A little while later, Natasha and Clint enter the kitchen, clearly fresh out of the shower after their sparring session. They quickly join the team at the table, and Tony happily lets himself be wrapped up by Clint from behind. 

"Good morning, Love. Sleep well?" 

"Always." he tilts his head up for a quick kiss, then he asks, with a small smirk, 

"So, who got their ass kicked today?" 

"Believe it or not, it was a pretty even tie... Oh hey, is that my shirt you're wearing?" Clint adds after that, grinning like the cat that got the cream while he settles down on the empty chair next to his partner. 

"Of course it is" Clearly, Tony is pretty satisfied with himself. 

It’s only when the breakfast slowly ends and they start to put away leftovers and the dirty plates and cups into the dishwasher, that Clint realizes that in fact, the entire outfit on Tony consists of his own, ancient and worn out clothes, and it sends a little spark of happiness through him. 

He likes this - the domestic, soft and small moments between them. Casual, tender touches, shared looks, stealing each other’s clothes for comfort. It seems a little silly sometimes, but who cares? They’re happy - that is worth so much. 

On their back to the elevator, up into the penthouse, the two of them hold hands. It quickly turns into a hug, and both men soak up each other's warmth for a bit - they’ll probably go back to bed for cuddles and more, anyway, but they have the day off and neither of them needs to be anywhere. 

_ Pling _ .

The elevator pulls them out of their rose coloured haze, and they share one last kiss before they walk out. On the way to the bedroom, Clint tugs slightly on his shirt - the one that Tony is currently wearing.

“It looks good on you.” he says, and can’t help the sappy smile that is creeping on his face. 

“It’s comfortable.” he replies, and leans in close as they settle back down into bed and rearrange themselves until their legs are tangled and their arms are tightly wrapped around one another.

“Comfortable You is my favourite.” Clint blurts out, and Tony actually blushes at that - their relationship is wonderful and the best thing that happened to either of them in a long time, but it is still fresh enough that sweet things like this really get to him sometimes.

Instead of an answer - or worse, deflecting and making a joke, because no Tony, shut up - he decides to settle for a kiss. Hopefully, he can put all the things he wants to say but can’t right now. But because him and Clint are alike in many ways, he pulls him closer, kissing back as his thumb keeps stroking the soft beard on Tony’s cheek.

He seems to understand just fine, and luckily, they are in agreement. 


	3. 74 - “We can share”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is only one bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for nightmares, nothing graphic

**74 - “We can share”**

Somehow, they keep getting stuck in safehouses lately. It's a whole thing, and if it wasn't so incredibly frustrating to sit around with nothing to do but wait, it would be funny. But as it is, it is getting old. 

This time, the team had to split up and they ended up in separate places, which annoys Steve to no end because he likes having everyone together after missions because they're a team and watch out for each other and all that. Tony likes to make fun of him sometimes, but if he is being honest, he actually agrees there. He, too, likes having everyone in one place because it's easier to watch out for each other that way. 

As rocky as their start might have been, what with 6 very strong and different personalities clashing together and trying to find their place within a brand new team, they are a family now. Do they want to strangle each other sometimes? Sure, it happens - although significantly less these days. Would they go after anyone who hurts one of their own because they are loyal and protective to a fault? Yes. 

So yes, they like to stay together. All of this is one of the main reasons Tony offered everyone a place to live in his home, after all. He does a great job hiding it all behind snark and jokes and posturing, but the others see right through his facade by now. 

Currently, they have to wait out a heavy snowstorm and the team is scattered around the area in different little cabins. 

Tony is bunking with Clint for the time being, and he figures that the archer is used to circumstances like that and will find a way to get comfortable pretty much anywhere. To be fair, Tony had plucked him out of dumpsters on more than one occasion, and he'd been mostly unbothered by it, which is kinda impressive, really. But the point is that Clint usually doesn't mind less-than-ideal circumstances as much. Tony… Does. 

He is well aware that he is privileged and probably more than a little spoiled, but at least in more recent years, he's had a fair share of humble pie, so, progress? 

"Oh well, this should work. At least we've got a fireplace, so even if the heat is fucked we'll be warm." Clint drops his duffle bag to the floor and makes his way over to turn the space heater on. Luckily, it does work. 

Tony makes his way through the cabin. It is tiny, so it doesn't take long, and he is pleased to find that they have running water in the bathroom and a separate bedroom. It does, however, only hold a single bed. 

Tony refuses to think about that in detail, because he pretty successfully managed to deny his ever growing crush on a certain archer so far. He's no good at relationships - there really is no point in ruining a perfectly good friendship. 

But then again, he'll happily take a night or two of sharing body heat, even though that might leave him pining even worse after the fact. 

Oh well - that's an issue for future-Tony he figures as he makes his way back to the main area. 

"There is only one bed." he informs Clint, who is testing the couch with a very impressive frown that might just be his resting face. His scowl darkens when he lies down and his feet are hanging off of the end and the armrest is uncomfortably high against his head. There are also hard wood parts and clumps in the cushions digging into his back and butt. 

"Well, this couch sucks ass… Do not recommend."

"We can share the bed, I don't mind." Tony offers and is ridiculously proud that he manages to sound so casual about it even though his heart is about to beat out of his chest at the mere thought. 

"Yeah?" it might be wishful thinking, but Clint looks almost hopeful at this. 

"Okay, that should work out." He actually smiles at that, and Tony could swear that the entire room lights up. 

Aw, feelings, no. 

While the storm picks up outside, they take turns in the bathroom and are pleased to find that the hot water actually lasts long enough for two semi-quick showers. Small favors. 

By the time they're having dinner - heated up soup from a can because that's what they found in the kitchen - the heat is doing a great job in keeping the room warm. The chill of the wind is creeping inside, still, but it could be a lot worse. At least, they have plenty of warm things in here, and they're tired enough so that they don't feel like spending a lot of time out there. 

Climbing into one single bed at night should be awkward, but it's really not. It is a tight enough fit so that they bump into each other, but neither of them pays it any mind. It's not like they're uncomfortable or unfamiliar with casual touch, but this is still… Different. 

Nonetheless, they wish each other good night and then Clint pulls out his hearing aids and leaves them sitting on the bedside table. He keeps his back turned as he is drifting off to sleep, quietly happy about the company but unsure if or how he should bring up the steadily developing chemistry between the two of them. 

Clint wakes up with a start and an elbow jabbing into his ribs. It's still pitch black in the room and there is no light filtering in through the windows, so he figures it must be still night. He is about to get up and out of bed to see who is attacking him, but then he realizes that it is actually Tony who is thrashing around in his sleep. He looks clearly distressed and like he has been caught up in his nightmare for a while. 

Clint can't hear him, but he is no stranger to night terrors, both in himself and other people, so he acts out of sheer instinct. 

Touching a person in a situation like this is a bad call and he knows it - so he calls Tony by name a few times, faintly hoping he doesn't end up yelling. Finally, Tony wakes up with a start. He is shaking apart and gasping for air, panicking and clearly embarrassed. 

"You're safe. It's okay, you're safe…" 

Clint is talking to him, low and even without being able to hear himself, but it seems to get through to his friend. Slowly, he inches closer. Although he keeps his face hidden, unwilling to openly show emotions, it is clear that he is looking for physical touch or comfort. Clint lets him come as close as he wants to and wraps both arms around the smaller man's shaking frame. 

Then he rests his head on top of messy dark hair, with one hand gently stroking through it while he holds on as tightly as possible. It seems to work. 

Tony manages to calm down over the next few minutes, and at some point he simply hugs back instead of letting go. He feels warm and safe and just a little bit loved, which is honestly more than he would dare to ask for. He is immediately grateful that Clint doesn't seem to mind. 

Both of them fall back asleep, wrapped around one another and when they wake up the next day, neither of them have moved. 

Truth be told, Tony wakes up first but he closes his eyes again. He wants to enjoy the solid warm body pressed close to him just a little bit longer - carefully, very carefully he doesn't think about all of those implications. His heart is beating a little bit faster now, and is surprised to find the arms around him tightening a bit. 

"Mornin'... Are you okay?" 

Clint is awake now, and he doesn't pull away when he asks this. His voice is slightly rough from sleep and there is something to it that makes Tony fall in love a little more. 

"Yes, I am. Thanks." he answers, before he catches on to the fact that Clint can't hear him talk right now. So he just nods against him and half expects him to pull away now that he knows he's fine, but he doesn't. Instead, Clint just nods back and burrows deeper into the pillows and Tony before falling back asleep. Tony chooses to get comfortable again and sleep some more - after all, he has no intention whatsoever to turn down cuddles, especially if they're conveniently provided like this. 

If this turns out to be anything other than what he hopes for, Tony would be absolutely heartbroken, but somehow, he has a feeling that this is not the case. 

As it turns out, he is right. 

They kiss that very same morning, in the tiny kitchen while they wait for the coffee to run through. It's a soft and fleeting thing, way more gentle than either of them would have imagined when they thought - or more like hoped - for this to happen, but it feels just right. There is a quiet happiness to it, and as cheesy as it is, they hold hands under the table even though there is no one around but them. 

It's a start, and a good one at that. 

  
  
  
  



End file.
